The Legend of the Headless Horseman
by Kiriona
Summary: Inspired by Sleepy Hollow and written for Halloween. While returning home late one night from a short business trip, the Prince has an encounter with a mysterious horseman that almost costs him his life. Who is this man? And why is he after the Prince?
1. Blood Moon

Kiri: It's nearly Halloween, everybody! And since it's one of my favorite days of the year, I have to do something to celebrate1 So, here's a nie little horror story for you guys to read. No, this doesn't mean I'm postponing Warrior's Angel, so don't worry about that. Anyway, this story was inspired by Sleepy Hollow. Obviously. I love the Headless Horseman, so I just had to use him for something. But enough of all this crap. Enjoy the story!

* * *

_The Legend of the Headless Horseman_

_Written by Kiriona_

Chapter 1

The night was cold and bleak and as silent as a graveyard. The full moon cast it's light down upon the desert sands so brightly, one would think it was day. But even so, the sheer stillness and inactivity sent out eerie vibes that sent shivers down the Prince's spine. Every step his horse took, every beat of the horse's hooves against the sand and every movement of the reins in his hands seemed to echo loudly and break the deafening silence.

He mentally cursed himself for staying out so late. Not only was the morbid tranquility of the hour disturb him to no end, but he knew that Farah would be waiting for him to return home… and she wouldn't be happy once he got there. He should have been home hours ago, but was it his fault that his business in the next city over had taken an unexpected turn and his presence there had been required a few hours longer?

He sighed heavily, knowing what he would return home to, and started rehearsing what he would say to his soon-to-be wife in his head. With any luck, he could explain himself smoothly and she would believe him.

As the minutes dragged by, and the Prince slowly drew nearer to his home city of Babylon, he became to immersed in his thoughts of home that he didn't noticed the moon slowly turning from brilliant white to an unearthly orange, to a deep crimson. It was only when his horse suddenly reared up so high that he had to seize the reins and yanks to keep from falling off that he returned to his senses. The horse dropped back down again, but quickly reared up again in fright, despite the Prince's attempts at calming him. It took a good three minutes to finally regain his control of the frightened animal, and only then did his see the environment bathed in crimson light, as if the desert had been bathed in blood.

Needless to say, it unnerved him. A quick glance at the moon told him that it was time to get home. Now. He moved to push the horse into motion again, intending to kick him into a fast sprint that would get him home as quickly as possible… but stopped.

In his path was a jet-black steed, snorting viciously, its eyes red as the moon, focused intently on him as if sizing him up. Sitting atop the steed was a man. He was dressed in black and red with a few pieces of armor on his knees, chest and shoulders. He was broad and muscular, and probably could've easily provided a heavy challenge to the Prince in combat, and completely crushed him in a competition of brute strength.

But that wasn't what intimidated the Prince. No… there was something else about the man that aghast him. His head. _Where was his head?!_

Unnerved and horrified, the Prince only sat there, staring, wondering if it was only a trick of the light and this stranger was only a phantom. Neither he nor this mysterious horseman moved for what seemed like eternity. Seconds became minutes… the minutes slugged by… the Prince's heartbeat so loudly in his chest it blocked out all other sound. Afraid? Hell yes, he was afraid. Maybe it was foolish of him and this horseman was only an image conjured up by his imagination and the unearthly light the moon was throwing down. But he was out in the middle of nowhere… weaponless… and no way yelling for help.

He bit his lip and kicked himself mentally for not taking his sword with him. He knew he should have, but he'd been running late when he left and had forgotten all about it. If this horseman was indeed real, he was in serious trouble. But maybe… just maybe whatever it was meant no harm. Maybe it was just someone out playing a joke. Yes, a joke… if this was the case, he could just slip past with no problem, and then ride home as fast as he possible could.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the Prince lightly tapped his horse with his boots and the horse started moving forward in a nice slow trot. The horseman did nothing. Slightly more confident now, he gripped his horse's reins tightly, waiting for the perfect moment to start yelling at his horse to move, his eyes trained intently on the rider.

He urged his horse just the slightest bit faster. Still, the horseman did nothing. The prince's anxiety steadily grew as he neared the phantom. Closer and closer… and closer still… until he could've looked the man straight in the eye, head there been eyes there to look into. There, he paused only the slightest second… Time seemed to slow down… the red desert seemed to blur… The Prince could've sworn that the horseman was staring right at him at that moment…

He suddenly let out a loud yell and his horse immediately reacted to it. The animal let out a loud whinny and short forward. But as soon as it did, the horseman's hand when to the long, cruel looking blade it his waist and without a seconds notice, the gleaming blade sliced through the air, missing the Prince's neck by mere inches.

Clearly shaken by this, the Prince kicked his horse into full sprint and darted in the direction of Babylon. But the horseman wasn't about to just let him get away unscathed. He urged his black horse into motion and gave chase and within minutes, he was right on the Prince's tail. The Prince kept snapping his reins, kicking the horse's sides and shouting in order to move quicker, but no matter how fast he galloped, the horseman kept gaining… and gaining…

The Prince bit his lip hard, his eyes focusing intently on the road ahead, however difficult it was too see in the crimson light. He tried to keep his ears trained on the sound of the horseman's galloping, but his heart was pounding so hard, it seemed to drown out all else.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of silver streaking rapidly through the air. With a startled yelp, he ducked, and the horseman's sword once again missed his neck. But he didn't give up. From his position right next to the prince, the horseman swung again… and again… each time missing the Prince by only centimeters.

It was definitely clear at this point that this was no joke. Whoever this man was, whoever this headless horseman was, he was out looking to kill. Had it not been for the Prince's experience being chased by the Dahaka for all those years, he surely would be dead by now.

Thinking quickly, the Prince jerked the reins of his horse and made a hard left, away from the horseman. With some luck, he could gain some extra time and put a little distance between him and the headless man's blade. He glanced over his shoulder. The horseman obviously hadn't expected the Prince to take that course of action, and had been forced to slow and turn his horse. It would take him some time to catch up again, and this gave the Prince a little time to think.

He had to reach Babylon. There, he could shout at the night guard for help and with luck, he would be safe and could return home to Farah. The only problem was going to be getting there…

The Prince glanced over his shoulder again and his heart skipped a beat and leapt into his throat. The horseman had gained ground and was nearly caught up with him again. He once again cursed himself for not having so much as a dagger to defend himself with and once again jerked the reins into a hard left. But the horseman was not one to be foiled twice.

There was a flash of silver and a cry of pain as the horseman's blade slashed clean through the material of the Prince's tunic and into his shoulder, leaving a deep gash. But the Prince didn't let it stop him. He had to get away. He had to reach Babylon.

He got himself back on the path, all the while dodging ruthless swings from the horseman's sword and along the way, he acquired several more minor injuries, though none as serious at the first.

Finally, the city came into view and the Prince's heart leapt. He was nearly there. He was nearly home! Just a little further…

But all of the sudden, everything went black. So black the Prince couldn't see his hand in front of his face. There was a rush of cold air all around him… a sensation of falling… a feeling of foreboding… and just as quickly as it had come, the blackness left. The Prince checked over his shoulder again. The horseman was gone.

Bt just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, he looked up, his eyes snapped open and he immediately yanked back on the horse's reins. There sat the Headless Horseman, waiting on the trail ahead of him, just before the city gates, his blade drawn back, waiting…

The Prince panicked at his horse started to stop and skid to a halt. He lowered his head and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping… praying … awaiting the inevitable…

But it never came.

Seconds went by… minutes came and went… and the prince realized that he was still alive. He slowly opened one eye, then the other and looked up in astonishment. The horseman had lowered his blade, and if he had a head, the Prince just knew he would be grinning. But why? Why wasn't he doing what he'd been trying to do all this time?

Before the Prince's mind could register what was happening, the horseman sheathed his blade, snapped the reins of his horse and road away, disappearing into the night. Dumbfounded, the Prince of Persia only sat there, staring back at the trail as the light of the moon slowly turned back to normal. He didn't know what the horseman's interest in killing him was, but he knew, with a certainty he could not explain, that they had not seen the last of each other. And to be honest, he dreaded the day they would meet again.

Well… at least now he had an excuse for being so late.

* * *

Kiri: and there you have it! the first chapter of a whole new legend. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and hopefully I had some of you glued to your chairs. Even just a little. If so, then I've done my job as an author and I shall begin the next chapter. 


	2. Returning Home

Chapter 2

The Palace was quiet when the Prince finally made his way in. Most of the servants had gone home, or gone to bed, and no one was up except for the night guard. With any luck, Farah had also gotten tired of waiting for him and gone to bed as well. In all honesty, he wasn't sure if he wanted to explain to her why he was so late… and why there were bloodstains on his clothes.

As he slowly made his way to his bedroom, he thought back on his encounter with the mysterious horseman. Who was he? And why had he been so dead set on killing him, only to come to the moment of truth and stop? And the moon… why had it turned such an ungodly color? Just what the hell had happened tonight?

Had it even happened at all? He had been feeling a little drowsy along the way… maybe he had simply nodded off and dreamed it all? But even if he had dreamt the whole thing, how could he have managed to cut himself up?

Sighing heavily, the prince dropped his head in his hand and shut his eyes tightly, feeling a headache coming on. So many questions, but not enough answers. It's possible that it could have all been a joke. Some joy riders out looking to cause trouble, only to find a man on horseback, all alone. A perfect target for a practical joke. But even so, how could a group of pranksters turn the moon that horrible shade of scarlet?

Being careful not to disturb the silence, the Prince quietly opened the door to his room and slipped inside, carefully closing it behind him. For a moment, he thought that Farah had gone to bed, since the room was dark and only the light from the moon outside illuminated his dwellings. But then…

"Where on Earth have you been?" There was no mistaking the worried, yet at the same time aggravated tone on her voice. The Prince couldn't help but wince slightly before turning to see his bride-to-be coming toward him in her nightclothes. "I was worried about you!" He bit his lip slightly as his stood in front of him nd rested her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, Farah," he said softly, "but my presence was required a few hours longer than intended… I apologize for worrying you." Should he tell her? Would she believe him if he did? Would she forgive him for being out so late before he could utter a word about his encounter?

"At least you're home now," she whispered, leaning into him, her delicate arms entwining around his neck. He slid his arms about her small waist in return. But this union would be short lived, for Farah suddenly let go, stepped back and looked at her now-blood stained hand. Her eyes moved from him to her hand, back to him. "Prince, what happened?!" She quickly moved around behind him and found the gash left there by the Headless Horseman.

"It's nothing," he said quickly, "just a graze."

"Graze nothing! Take this off," she tugged lightly at his tunic, which he pulled off over his head. Now she had a clear view of every cut, bruise and mark left on his by the mysterious rider. "Should I call a doctor?" Farah asked worriedly from behind him, but the Prince shook his head.

"No, it will be fine. Besides, it's too late and everyone is asleep. Just bring some water." She did so, which helped greatly.

"Now will you tell me what happened?" she insisted, taking a seat on the bed next to him. Would it be wise, the Prince wondered, to tell her the truth? Would she believe the truth? Now that he thought back on it, he couldn't help of wonder if it really had happened. It was possible that he had dozed off and dreamt it all…but then again; he had the wounds to prove it.

What if she still didn't believe him? That wouldn't look go for him at all, in the eyes of his soon-to-be wife, or the rest of the city. What would they think of him if it got out that he had been spinning wild tales of headless men on horseback roaming the desert? It would ruin his reputation. But then… what if she believed him? Then what?

"Prince…?" Farah's soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality.

"Farah…" he answered, dropped his head in his hands. "Now that I think back on it… it sounds so crazy…"

"What does? Prince, please, talk to me." He lightly chewed the inside of his cheek, considering his options. But before h e knew what he was doing, he found himself spilling everything to her. He told her everything worth telling, about how he's had to stay longer on his trip, how he'd come home alone by moonlight… about how the moon had changed color… and about his near-death experience with the horseman.

He didn't know what Farah was thinking. She only sat there and listened, her expression unreadable. She probably thought he was mad, but if she did, he couldn't tell. When he finally finished, the two sat there a while longer in silence. But finally, the Prince sighed and broke the quiet.

"You think me mad, don't you?" he asked, his voice low, "Maybe I am mad… maybe it was all a dream… I don't know what happened tonight, to tell you the truth."

"Well… there have been some rumors lately… that pranksters have been going round, scaring people into giving up their valuables…" Farah suggested.

"But he didn't take anything. He didn't even speak a word!"

"Then… perhaps an old enemy? Or some outcast looking to cause trouble?"

"Perhaps… I don't know." Farah leaned into his side. "But I don't understand… he had the perfect opportunity to take my head clean off… why didn't he? He could've killed me, the heir to the throne of Babylon, and taken my kingdom for himself… why did he let me live?"

"I don't know, Prince. But it's late, and I'm tired. How about we talk more about this in the morning?" After a slight pause, the Prince nodded.

"Yes… I'm tired as well." With that said, Farah crawled back under their blankets while the Prince readied himself for bed. He took Farah's small frame into his arms as he climbed under the covers as well and sweetly kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, Farah." The Indian Princess snuggled up to him.

"Goodnight, Prince."

* * *

Kiri: Sorry for the short, boring chapter, guys. I actually didn't want to end it here, but it's way past midnight now, and I'm getting sleepy. so I just figured it was best to end it here. next chapter will have more going for it hopefully, so stay tuned. And I'm also hoping to update Warrior's Angel soon, too... I'm just a little stuck. Suggestions, anyone? Pweasy? 


	3. Demon Rider

Chapter 3

When morning came, the first thing the Prince did was gather a small group of his finest guards and explore the perimeter of the city. Had his encounter with the horseman been a dream? He had to know. Maybe if he looked hard enough, he could find something, some clue that would lead him to his answer.

The party searched and searched for something, anything that could act as convincing evidence of the Headless Horseman's existence and pursuit of the Prince. The hours passed, and not one of them found anything. The morning became midday, and midday faded into afternoon, but no trace of the horseman was found. All that was there were the faint outlines of hooves from his horse, but the desert sands churning in the soft breeze quickly covered them up.

Finally, the Prince gave up. He returned to the palace with a heavy heart to a rather worried fiancé. He spilled his troubles to her once again, but no matter what way he looked at it, the whole thing made little to no sense. And, in all honesty, it was driving him mad.

"I don't understand it!" the prince exclaimed as he paced around his bedchamber. Farah sat anxiously on the bed, watching him with concerned eyes. "Not a single trace! Just what the hell happened last night?!"

"Prince, perhaps you should just… let it go. It's over now," she told him. He stopped pacing and dropped his head into his hand.

"I know it is… but I just can't get rid of the feeling that this whole thing isn't over. When he spared my life and rode away… it was as if he were simply… toying with me. Like he didn't want to end it so quickly… like he wanted to play with me a little."

"Maybe this is what he wanted! Look at you, Prince!" Farah exclaimed, "You've been obsessing over it all day long! Perhaps he wants you're ignorance to get the better of you!" Normally, the Prince would've become defensive at this and make it clear that he was not obsessing over anything, but miraculously, he stopped and seemed to consider this.

"Perhaps… perhaps you're right…" he admitted quietly. "But even so… this isn't the end. I know he'll come back… I just know it…" At this, Farah sighed and placed her hand carefully upon her abdomen. There was something she had been itching to tell him all day long. She knew he would be overjoyed at what she had to say, but how could he be happy when he was in such a state? "Very well," her future husband declared, "I will go out again tonight. This time, I will go alone. If the horseman really wants me, he'll come. At least, I hope he will." With that, he walked out of the room without giving Farah the chance to respond.

True to his word, the Prince of Persia mounted his horse when night fell and rode out through the city gates. He took with him his father's sword and wore his armor. It hadn't failed him when the Dahaka had chased him… how could it fail him now?

The hours passed agonizingly slow as the moon, still full, climbed higher and higher in the sky. Again and again he circled the city of Babylon, going a little farther and a little farther with each new lap. No sign of the horseman. But the Prince wasn't about to give up. He rode on, determined to find what he was searching so hard for… and when the moon reached it's highest point in the sky and the lights of Babylon were only a twinkle in the distance… the Prince got his wish.

It happened slowly. The moon was slowly covered by that same veil of ungodly light, and the environment changed with it. But the Prince was not afraid then. He urged his horse on, not satisfied with just the change of the moon, and squinted into the crimson darkness for any sign of his target. For a long while, he found neither hide nor hair of the horseman, but it turned out that the Prince didn't have to find the horseman… the Horseman had found him.

The Prince had always prided himself on his keen senses. Ever since his scrap with the Dahaka, his eyes, ears and mind had been sharper than a fine pointed sword. They had to be; otherwise the Dahaka would have caught him a long time ago. But now…

It all happened to fast that he hardly had time to realize what had happened. It had been so silent… so still… but then a slightly_whoosh_ right behind him broke that eerie tranquility and the Prince had had only seconds to realize that the Headless Horseman was back and he had almost effortlessly snuck up on him and then suck before the demons blade took his head off.

Alarmed, the Prince immediately kicked his horse back into motion and fumbled for his sword. But just as he got a firm grip on to and prepared to tear it from it's sheath, the Horseman was right up on him once more. The Prince had to duck and dodge several more swings before finally getting the chance to unleash his own sword. He felt a small burst of confidence as he felt the blades familiar weight in his hand and his skill came flooding back to him like a reflex.

With a few blocks and some well-placed combos, the Prince was finally able to fight the horseman man to man. The only problem was that the horseman's blows and strikes were powerful. Too powerful, the Prince thought with the slightest hint of fear, too powerful to be human.

It was absolutely clear that what ever this horseman was, it was definitely no prankster, nor was it a thief. This fact became even clearer as the horseman locked swords with the Prince, snatched his collar with one arm and effortlessly shoved him from his horse. The prince yelled as he hit the ground and rolled. His sword flew from his hand and clatter to the ground several feet away out of his reach. Groaning in pain, he slowly got back to his feet rubbing the back of his head and looked… just in time to see the horseman turning, twirling his sword skillfully in one hand and charging right at him with the intent to claim his head.

Now panicked, the Prince yelled again and dove to the side, missing the horseman's deadly swing by mere inches. The Prince looked around madly for his sword as horseman turned his horse once again and began his second run, once again missing the Prince's neck by a disturbingly small space. Only then did the Prince spot his blade and jumped for it. With some luck, he scooped it up cleanly and held it at the ready.

"Come on! Fight me fairly!" he cried as the horseman once again rode towards him. But the horseman clearly had no intentions of giving the Prince the benefit of a fair battle. Whatever the reason, the mysterious rider wanted the prince dead at all costs. But the Prince was not going to give in so easily to this madman with no head.

As the horseman passed by for his third try at the Prince's head, the Prince leapt up and shoved his sword into the horseman's chest with all his might. His plan was successful, as the horseman fall back from his steed and on the ground… and didn't move. Was it over?

The Prince nudged the fallen rider with his foot, but there was no response. There was no evidence of breathing… no sign of any blood flow… it _was _over. At last, the Prince could rest easy. Relieved, he sighed deeply and sat upon the desert sands and gazed up at the blood moon. It was over… no more Headless Horseman… no more chasing… no more worries. Maybe now he could return to Farah and not—

The horseman suddenly sat up. Genuine fear flooded the Prince's heart and he slowly began to back up at the horseman effortlessly tore the blade from his chest, tossed it aside and got back to his feet.

"No… no, how can that be… you were dead… you were dead…" the Prince mumbled desperately, not able to believe what his eyes told him. This was no prankster. Nor was this a thief. This was no mercenary, or a crazed murderer. This thing… this headless rider… wasn't even human. "What the hell are you?!" the Prince cried, a foreboding feeling of helplessness overcoming him. "What do you want from me!! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME!!!" But the demon rider gave no answer. He only advanced on the Prince, his intentions all but crystal clear.

Pure animal instinct took over. He ran. He ran away as fast as he could from the Headless man, just as he had run from the Dahaka. He ran and ran, and ran until he got a hold of himself and stopped to look back. Nothing. Had he got away? Was he safe again? Maybe he could take a small rest… No! That would give the horseman more time to track him! He had to move! But he was so tired by now…

His body betrayed him and he sank down to the ground, still panting terribly. It had been so long since he had done so much running… Since he took over his kingdom, he had had little to no practice with his weapons… thus, he was a little out of shape. He had to rest. Just a little while…

But then… the Prince's eyes shot open when he hear it. It was soft at first… but steadily grew. Hooves. A horse. The horseman had found him. But he was so tired… He tried several times to get up, but his body refused. He was just too exhausted. And because of this, he was going to die tonight.

"No… no, please, no…" he groaned feebly, "No, just… go away… you bastard…" Tiredly, the Prince looked up once again, but all he saw was a glint of metal, a flash of white… then blackness.

* * *

Kiri: it that it...? No way! He's not dead, I promise. But we got to see our old buddy the horseman again, and we got to see that he's no where near human... but what even does he want with the Prince? Hmm... I wonder... lol. Stay tuned! And some reviews would be nice, too, by the way! 


End file.
